Stromboli and Baseball Bats
by karashferd
Summary: Jane and Maura prepare a dinner for the family and crazy Boston harbor business ensues. Chapter 2 / Conclusion now updated!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Rizzoli & Isles; we all know who they belong to. I'm just using them for my own personal entertainment while I await the summer finale. It is sure to be a tragic couple of months after that. I may have to borrow these characters a few (dozen) more times.

. . . . . .

"Did you know the term 'bat-shit crazy' originated from that of 'bats in the belfry' when abandoned and timeworn churches no longer sounded their bells, the development of a bat's sense of hearing being far too sensitive to withstand that of a loud chime—"

Jane rubbed her hand down the side of her face, "Maura, I said he was 'bat-shit crazy' because the murderer has a longstanding 'relationship' with his baseball bat that he used to bash in the heads of our victims. And we still can't find this bastard." Her frustrated hands now on her hips while realization flashed over the rest of her body. "You just said shit!"

Maura poised her frame as if to ward off mockery from the detective, squaring her shoulders, straightening her perfect posture even more, and tilting her chin as if she was the subject of a painting. "As a means to further explicate the reason how this colloquialism derived its true meaning."

Jane snorted a laugh, "you said shit." She raised her eyes to revel in the fluorescent lighting of justice, "Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, cussin' up storm in the morgue."

The ME tortured her lips into pout when trying to hide the faintest little smirk, "coffee?" She asked, well aware Jane saw the smile playing on her face.

Without even as much as a nod they were already headed to the district café, their bodies moved in unison like a perfectly choreographed dance down the long hallway all until the elevator.

With the java steaming from their cups they approached the counter waiting for Angela to ring them up. "That will be four dollars and fifty-two cents, ma'am," she addressed her daughter.

Jane raised her eyebrows and looked to Maura to make sure she wasn't hearing things. The medical examiner echoed her puzzled expression and they turned to Angela. "Ma, did you have a stroke?"

Angela leaned over the cash register so to not be overheard, "Mr. Stanley told me he doesn't appreciate the way I interact with my family during work hours."

The detective merely rolled her eyes and pushed Maura's hand away when she went to pay for the coffee. She dug into her own slacks and tossed a five on the counter before walking away, opting out of participating in the pettiness. Rizzoli checked her phone habitually, "oh, I have to run up to brick real quick."

"Oh, I'll come along." Maura followed her friend back onto the elevator.

"You forgot your lotion on my desk again didn't you?" The detective pressed the illuminating number for her floor and leaned her head against the wall.

The doctor fidgeted with the lid to her paper coffee cup, "I may have…" she trailed away from the thought at hand. Jane looked at her from the corner of her eye and cracked a smile in her direction.

Finally reaching their selected level, the elevator doors dinged open and a flood of officers and detectives stormed down the hall simultaneously. The detective instinctively held Maura behind her so to not be stampeded and their heads whipped side to side like a tennis match on speed.

When the parade was over after a few quick seconds they hurried into the office positioned just right across the hall, "Korsak, what the hell just happened?"

The Sergeant Detective dropped his glasses to the pad of paper in front of him, "DCU had a major bust, everyone in the unit has been ordered to the field."

Rizzoli nodded and silently prayed for their safety as she and Maura continued through the doors and to the detective's desk. The doctor immediately began dispensing the lotion into her hands and smoothed it into her palms. She looked up in time to see Jane staring down at her and Maura winked a grin in her direction. Neither Frost nor Korsak missed a second of their exchange but chose to ignore it as this was just how they interacted with one another.

"Is today Thursday?" Jane sat down and sipped her coffee, peering at the ceiling while Maura continued to massage the lotion into her skin.

"All day, Rizzoli, why—got a hot date tonight?" Frost fired at her from the row of printers near the wall furthest from her desk.

She nearly spit her coffee out, "damn it, it's Stromboli night; I have to get home in time so I get the dough to rise for at least three hours."

"If you intend on making it from scratch I insist you begin…" Maura checked her designer watch, "an hour ago."

Jane darted her eyes at the medical examiner, "great, now you're helping me." She jumped up and grabbed Maura's arm the process, "Frost, call my phone if anything comes up okay? I want to bag this baseball wielding son of a bitch before dessert."

Maura tailed behind the detective who was still ushering her out the door by her arm, "oh, what are we having for dessert?"

Jane shook her head before retreating to the elevator once more.

. . . . . .

"Maur, do you have any idea how many laws you broke on the way over here?" Jane hopped out of her car and approached the doctor's Prius right in front of her in the driveway.

The medical examiner rolled her eyes at the detective. "How many, officer?"

"None! That's how slow you went! I even tried to pass you but you just putt, putt, putted right in front of me. I promised Ma I would have dinner started over an hour ago!"

Maura was laughing in a disdainful tone toward the door. "You try speeding when you've already been written up for defacing public property and the added notion of an unmarked police cruiser tailgating you."

The door unlocked and opened, Jane entered to a familiar scent in the air. She paused in foyer to adjust her senses while Maura was already leading them to the kitchen. "Maur…" she hesitated at the living entrance, keys dangling from her hand.

"About four hours ago during lunch when you were interrogating a suspect," she winked in Jane's general direction.

The detective surveyed the kitchen to see the dough to the Stromboli had raised perfectly, the contents to their meal fully prepared for cooking, and the table set for the Rizzoli family that had adopted Maura as their own. "It's all…" Jane's thoughts barely had time to adjust, "done?"

"You can thank me later," Maura was already knotting an apron around her waist, "hand me the Genoa, we don't have much time for questions, your mother's shift ends at 6, about an hour. She should be here by 6:30."

They began another choreograph dance around the kitchen without as much as "mmm" said between them until the arrival of the family. Their moves were graceful, elegant, and fluid with one another. Upon a long glance in their direction, one would have assumed this was a daily ritual. Every few moments they caught sight of another and would grin considerably while dicing, chopping, or handling oven mitts. There were even several instances when the medical examiner would stop their dance briefly so the detective could work double duty as a taste tester. Each time she fed her straight from the tip of the spoon and nursed her cheek through the tasting so to determine her taste bud's approval. And each time, she tasted directly after, the remnants of Jane still on the utensil.

Their well-composed dance carried on through delivering the dishes to the table and igniting the candles. Maura had made it a point to create a seamless low-lit evening as if they were in an exclusive dining hall like one she had grown up with. It was silly, as she thought, but fun all the same.

"We have approximately twenty minutes their arrivals," the ME announced once the table had been dressed to her specifications.

"Perfect," Jane remarked while spinning Maura in her direction and untying her apron. Her rushed hands were fumbling knot that was made as she piloted her friend's hips closer. "This… damn… thing…" she mumbled.

"Jane," the medical examiner twirled around, "calm down." She finished unraveling the tie herself as she practically stood nose-to-nose with the detective never taking her eyes off the chocolate fountains for irises in front of hers.

A brief, almost imaginable, moment passed between them where Jane's hands remained on her hips and the ME's forehead collided softly with that of the detective's jawline—each of them pretending like that moment hadn't occurred.

"Let's have a short glass of wine so we can unwind before they arrive," Maura offered as she already moved to the decanters, dispensing their drinks.

Jane took a long, steady sip without removing her eyes from her friend. "Thank you," she thoughtfully took in her surroundings, "for everything."

The doctor brushed off her recognition, "it really wasn't a big deal. I recalled you mentioning your mother's instructions for the Stromboli and her strict recipe and knew with this 'bats in the belfry' crazy-man's case you would not have the appropriate time to prepare such a meal."

In between each word Jane had assumed a spot closer to her friend, touched by her words and actions, "you're wonderful, Maur…" she devoured another sip of wine for courage. The detective barely even had time to realize that since the knot-in-the-apron fiasco she had yet to remove one hand from the medical examiner's waist. In the silence that followed the gratitude, Maura herself slowly began to realize the placement of her friend's hand.

What felt like seconds had become minutes. "It smells amazing in here!" Angela exclaimed from the front foyer. "Janie, you outdid yourself."

Her daughter's hands and eyes dropped immediately from the doctor's, "actually, Ma— "

"She did a lovely job, Angela. That recipe you created was nearly impossible to devastate." Maura continued, cutting Jane off while never losing her eye contact.

Dinner passed as mouth-watering as it intended to be. The detective and doctor exchanged numerous winks and looks back and forth upon their forkfuls of bites. Angela and Frankie Jr. alike enjoyed every last bite. The meal slicked by with generous compliments and easy communication between "yummy" noises belly rubbing. Jane checked her phone routinely throughout the feast and dessert to assure Frost had not tried to contact her; she also made a note that each time she perused her cellphone super-glued to hip, Maura paid close attention to her friend's reactions.

After the cannoli's consumption, everyone retreated from the table dropping empty plates and dishes in the sink for an easy clean up. Frankie left rather quickly to catch a few hours of sleep before patrol and Angela mentioned being exhausted from her busy shift at the café that afternoon. Upon her departure, Jane immediately sent a text message toward her partner, Detective Frost to get an update. Awaiting his response, she helped her friend and head-chef place all the used dinnerware in the dishwasher for an easier clean up. When the shelves were full and the kitchen was scrubbed back to it's flawlessness, Jane caught Maura's attention.

"Maur… Thank you. You can't imagine what all of this means to me," she dawdled off, wiping a small bead of sweat from the medical examiner's temple with her dish towel.

"You can't imagine what it means to be an outsider all your life and suddenly part of a heartwarming family," she closed the distance between them with her hand catching Jane's arm, "it is truly a gift, and I've nothing to reciprocate but my home," she continued, tracing her fingertips down to her friend's wrist.

As luck would have it, her text message alert sounded, breaking the budding tension between them. Jane dropped her stare from their closeness to her phone on the counter across the island in the kitchen. It sounded once more, indicated two messages. And then again, indicating three. Her body immediately jumped into Detective Rizzoli mode.

Frost: Warehouse.

Frost: Docks.

Frost: Pier 14.

The only words she received. She regarded these seriously and asked for Maura's help in driving so she would have a better chance of running. "Please, disobey every law, I promise not to write you up," was the only sentence she muttered on the twenty-five minute drive to the harbor.

"Park behind that trailer, do not, I repeat, do not move this car." The detective spoke vehemently to her friend while readying her gun for firing upon exiting the vehicle.

She paced quickly and in the fifteen or so yards from the Prius to the pier entrance, aiming her weapon as a threat to the empty lot around her.

Finally reaching the large overhead door, Jane entered with trepidation building on her trigger finger. "Frost?" She whispered and took five steps forth. "Frost?" And now three steps. "Frost!?" She loudly uttered into the air within two steps.

A faint noise of metal chains clanking together sounded only meters away from her position, she prompted her firearm.

"Detective Rizzoli, I presume," were the last words she heard before the butt end of a baseball bat greeted the side of head.


	2. Chapter 2

Water dripping.

Waves crashing nearby.

The tapping of a heavy object to cement.

Whispering. Lots of whispering.

A Boston Red Sox game ringing a soft score in the background.

The detective was finally able to open her eyes and grasp the situation she was in. She saw darkness within her first blinks.

_Focus, Rizzoli. _She warned herself. _Focus._

Finally snapping her lids open, she felt the searing pain coming from the spot above her ear on her head. She inhaled deeply with her eyes glued to the floor. The detective attempted to reach for her gun not realizing the placement of her arms—she sensed friction against her wrists and looked quickly to her feet, also tied together. Panic frenzied through her body as her senses were coming to. She looked up in time to see Frost across from her, also waking bound to what felt and appeared to be an office chair. Jane's eyes warned him to not say anything as they examined their surroundings.

Faint laughter corrupted the air.

Heavy steps pounded toward the detectives.

"We're all awake now, good." A middle-aged man clad in a mechanic's uniform, a one-piece olive jumpsuit, approached. He stood between them and addressed Frost while lifting his baseball bat to his shoulder in a relaxed stance. "You," he waved a crooked finger, "you gave me this. Sneaky little bastard." The man pointed to a fresh black eye on his face and dragged his feet closer to Jane's partner. Frost said nothing, tightening the muscles in his face and clenching his jaw. A backhand struck his cheek. "Now you'll have one too."

Jane instinctively tried to lunge toward her partner, though held down by the rope entwining her hands and feet. The detective did his best to ignore the throbbing and hold his head forward. Rizzoli straightened her slender legs beneath her as much as possible and slammed the chair down, wanting to bring the fight to her. The crashing to the floor jarred her body and her clasped hands behind her felt something falling from her back pocket.

Without changing hear demeanor, she quickly recognized what the object was. _The lighter. From dinner. I lit the candles._

"Hey!" she yelled to the man and his bat as a means to ignite the trigger in silence so he would have no sense of it. "What do you want?" The detective continued.

The man laughed wickedly in her direction. "I haven't even started with you yet," he spun on a vicious heel toward her.

"Oh yeah?" Jane tried to keep him away from Frost but far enough away from her so he didn't smell the burning of the rope behind her back. She could feel scorch marks blazing the inside of her forearms.

He placed his baseball bat on the cement between the detectives like a twisted game of bacon. "Just one second, sweetheart," he addressed the bat before hobbling off in the obscurity of the warehouse.

Without hesitation Jane pulled her arms at the rest of the threads on the rope releasing her hands and tossed with exact precision, the lighter into Frost's cupped grasp he stretched as far as possible to the side.

He ignited quickly as Jane freed her ankles and positioned the cord back around them to appear as if she was still bound.

The younger detective was now free, mimicking Jane's actions.

Just in time.

They heard squeaky wheels emerging from the shadows and the large-footed steps following.

Into the low glow of the circle encompassing Rizzoli and Frost, a third person tied, bound, and gagged to a chair was now in the middle.

"Maura!" Jane held herself back as if she was still tied, waiting for her perfect moment. "Maura honey, you're okay, we're here. Frost and I are here!"

Once brought into the light a bit more, the detective noticed cuts, bruises, and fresh blood on her friend.

Anger engulfed her veins and her previous plan of waiting for the right moment to strike was out the door. She gnashed her teeth toward the man's back facing her as he giggled impishly at Frost.

In one swift motion she slid to the center grabbing the murder's bat and threatening to swing at him. He flashed an evil smile as Jane stood only feet away from him.

She held the bat at either end, royally pissed off.

Her long fingers and firm grip around the cylinder, she brought the middle of it to her kneecap—his 'sweetheart' wooden bat now kindling and toothpicks.

"No!" He yelped and charged toward staunch woman in front of him.

As if he was cued, Frost immediately took the murderer down, slamming his head into the ground a few times for good measure. He used the remains of the rope to contain him while Jane's entire expression changed whilst examining her friend.

"Maur," her eyes watered fervently as she bent down in front of the doctor untying her blindfold first, then removing the gag in her mouth, then her hands, and her feet. She was out still.

Jane ran gentle fingers along the ME's head looking for any other open contusions. _None. _She silently thanked whomever. She continued her scrutiny over her face, a gash above her eye brown, then her arms, bruises and dirt on her hands and knees. _She tried to fight back. _Jane assessed. Her scared and scorched hands trailed back up to Maura's cheek as she was beginning to wake.

"Jane." Her eyes had yet to open and she collapsed on the floor wrapped into her friend's arms for safety as she was rocked slowly back and forth.

"It's okay, Maur. It's all over honey. It's all over." She reassured her and cooed soft sounds into the woman's golden blonde hair. "I'm so sorry, Maura. I should have never made you drive. I'm so, so sorry." Tears teemed down her cheeks as she tenderly swayed her best friend back and forth. "Why did you move the car?"

"Jane." She hummed once more. "I didn't move the car." Her chin lifted to meet the detective's eyes. "I got out of the car."

Within moments Korsak the rest of the police department was on scene and removed the murderer while paramedics ushered the injured detectives and medical examiner to be cleaned up.

Jane never let go of Maura who was had begun shaking and quivering in the crisp harbor air.

Stubbornly denying admittance to the nearest hospital for further treatment, the dark haired investigator insisted on driving her and the doctor home to safety.

The weariness in her friend's body rolled off on the ride back the Isles estate—her hand resting quietly between the ME's situated on her lap.

Pulling into the driveway, Jane had barely put the car into park while running over to Maura's door to lift her from the seat.

"Jane, I'm okay." The doctor lazily protested.

"Damn it, Maur, I'm not letting go of you, let's just get in the house." Her long olive-skinned arms encased her friend's shoulders and led them to the door where Angela was impatiently waiting.

A few motherly words shouted between tightly pressed lips and she was off to give them space to rest.

The detective showed the doctor to her room so she could change into clean, comfortable attire while she made fresh panda excrement tea for both of them.

"You should change too," Maura announced as Jane lightly walked into her friend's bedroom with steaming hugs in hand. "You have your yoga satchel here, I believe your pants and sports bra are still inside…" she moved to the corner of the room and retrieved the items from her bag placing them in Jane's hands.

The detective undressed quickly in the bathroom and washed up just as Maura had. She retreated to her friend's side on the bed, feeling somewhat exposed.

"I'm not letting go of you." Jane warned her once more as she pulled Maura into her arms in the middle of the king-sized mattress.

"Don't, then." The doctor cuddled closer to her side and draped her free arm over the detective's bare torso.

"Maur," Jane had begun a sequence of thoughts in her head and instead of words pouring from her mouth, her body shook the two of them with tears and sniffs.

The ME freed her other arm and stroked the cries from her friend's face until her eyes opened.

She reeled her in to place a reassuring kiss on her cheek.

Jane reciprocated by placing one on her forehead.

Maura thought for a moment.

She gifted another one to a different spot on Jane's check, closer to her jawline.

The detective pulled back, catching her friend's eyes for a quick moment before sending a lingering peck to the doctor's temple.

Shifting her head up to fasten Jane's gaze in her direction again, Maura exhaled with intent.

Jane copied, mouth barely opening and pupils scanning over her confidant's. She entwined their legs together and slid her hand upward, cupping the back of the doctor's head.

Maura's hand guided the small of the detective's back into her body.

They didn't blink for what felt like hours.

Searching.

Examining.

Studying.

"Maur…" Jane couldn't recall saying her name, it just slipped.

"Yes." Maura wasn't answering, she was giving permission.

Their lips collided as easily, as smoothly, and flawlessly as their dance around the kitchen. Jane's hands guided their frames with immaculate care and luxury—stomachs doing backflips, hearts fluttering the beat, and escaping breaths became the backdrop.

"Jane," the doctor's voice purred into her friend's kiss.

"Yes." Jane wasn't answering, she was promising.


End file.
